


To Wake Next To You

by DisposableVillain



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alchemy, BDSM, Blind Character, Breakfast, Brigadier General Mustang, Canon Disabled Character, Cute, Disability, F/M, Flame Alchemy, Funny, Ishval, Lazy - Freeform, Lazy Sex, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, Masochist, Morning Sex, One Shot, PTSD, Post-Canon, Promotions, Scars, Short Story, So it's a while after the canon, They share a brain cell, Trauma, colonel hawkeye, dumbass energy, fma, fmab - Freeform, married, mentions of BDSM, mentions of trauma, puns, sadist, they try and get one another to make coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:29:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29160450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisposableVillain/pseuds/DisposableVillain
Summary: "Riza was the only person Mustang had ever wanted to fall asleep next to, and wake up with the next day."Mustang and Hawkeye have the day off together for the first time in months, and Mustang is adamant that he won't be the one to make the coffee that morning.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	To Wake Next To You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! For those of you who don't know me, I'm Elliot. This is my first FMAB fanfiction.
> 
> I had the idea of both Hawkeye and Mustang squabbling in the morning over who had to make the coffee, and using their experiences together as an argument for not getting up. I also see them both working through a lot of trauma with bdsm together but also having lazy morning sex when the mood hits them. 
> 
> I did my best to write it entirely in Mustang's point of view, so no visual descriptions because of this, and I hope that works. I hope you enjoy! I'd love a comment if you do!

**Content Notes:** Lazy morning sex, mentions of sadistic/masochistic sex and sexual bondage, mentions of Ishvalan War and takeover of Central, blind character

* * *

The morning sun was just hitting the tops of the homes along the Central skyline when Mustang woke, and it warmed his cheek through the window. He must have forgotten to close the curtains before he’d fallen asleep.

He blinked slowly, allowing the light to warm his skin. After a few minutes of sleepy relaxation, Mustang fumbled for his clock. Havoc had taken out the glass after Mustang was blinded, so he could tell the time without waking someone up to check it for him.

Half nine.

An acceptable time, considering it was his day off. He set his clock down again and dropped his arm above his head. The cotton on the pillow above him was cool against his bare forearm. Mustang sighed and turned on his back. The sheets soothed his skin, sore from exhaustion caused by overworking. Maybe Riza was right - he could afford to take another day off here or there each month. With his choice pawns and Lieutenants back, chances of mistakes due to sheer incompetence were low.

Speaking of…

Mustang turned onto his other side, back facing the window now.

Riza was still lying beside him, and he reached out, touch light in case he fumbled, to brush his fingers against her arm. Her hair spilled loose over her scarred back, so she was sleeping on her stomach again. Mustang smiled and shifted closer to her.

She was the only person he’d ever wanted to fall asleep next to, and wake up with the next day.

Riza snored softly and her breath hit Mustang’s face hot. She was facing him, then. Mustang carefully wrapped an arm around her waist and ran his thumb over the scar at the base of her hip. It was the one covering the specifics of using pinpoint flame alchemy - Mustang’s specialty.

He shifted, propping himself up on his elbow. A crease in the sheets pressed up into his skin. He moved off the crease and then leaned down, pressing kisses along Riza’s shoulders. His lips brushed over the thickest scar on her back - the one that covered the information on the steps to actually learn flame alchemy. He’d always felt bad about that one in particular.

It cut across her shoulders diagonally, knotted up above her spine, and still gave her pain when she was in the North or whenever the weather was taking a turn for the worse. One time, when he still had his sight, Mustang had visited Riza to find her planking against the wall, shoulder bones pressed back. He’d rang the doorbell and knocked twice before using the key under the mat.

She had apologised for making him let himself in, and explained that the exercise helped her stretch out the angry scar tissue when it was bad. The worse it was, the longer she had to stretch it.

When Mustang had asked her how long she had been at it that time, she went quiet, but she didn’t stop until Mustang made dinner and called her to eat half an hour later.

Riza twitched beneath him and her breathing pattern changed, lightening a touch. After a moment, she yawned loudly. “Morning.”

“Good morning.” Mustang lay back on his side and squeezed Riza’s waist. “Did I wake you?”

“Yes.” Riza stretched her arms out in front of her, muscles shifting beneath her skin. “But I’m glad you did. I would have slept all day otherwise.” She brushed her hand against his arm before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

Mustang pulled back after a moment. “Let me brush my teeth first. I can feel the morning breath in my own mouth.”

Riza laughed at that and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on Mustang’s chest. “It’s not that bad, but whatever you say, _Brigadier General_.”

“Exactly, _Colonel_.” Mustang poked Riza’s forehead with his index finger and then moved to comb through her hair with his fingers. It was knotted from the night before and he did his best to untangle it with his fingers.

Riza sighed, leaning into his touch. “I don’t think I’ve slept that well in weeks,” she admitted. “No bad dreams or anything.”

“Me too.” Mustang tilted his head. It was interesting, he supposed. Normally when he slept too long, his dreams reverted to either Ishval or the battle he’d lost his sight in, or on a particularly bad day, a warped version of events where he wasn’t able to save Riza from the homunculi Lust.

Last night, however, brought no dreams, good or bad. It was peaceful.

Mustang closed his eyes again, lightly dosing in the morning sun, and only woke properly again when Riza shifted to pepper kissed along his jaw and neck.

Mustang hummed, tilting his head back to give her a little more room. “You know how I saved you from certain death innumerable times over the course of our lives?” He asked.

Riza smoothed her hands over his chest. “You know how you permanently disfigured my back?”

“You _literally_ asked me to do that!” Mustang sighed. “Fine. You know how I murdered a creature in cold blood for you?”

“That wasn’t for me.” Riza’s hands slipped lower, her fingers hooking into Mustang’s boxers and pulling them away. “We both know you would have killed Lust anyway.”

“Perhaps, but not nearly as gruesomely,” Mustang ceded. He reached up, grabbed Riza’s shoulders, and pulled her closer for a kiss, morning breath be damned. “I saw her standing over you and saw red. So, I saved you from that.”

“After I saved you from Gluttony when you left your post.” Riza leaned over him. Her hair tickled Mustang’s shoulders as it fell around Riza’s neck.

Mustang considered it and hummed. “Okay, fine, that one is cancelled out too.”

“I thought as much.” Riza laced her fingers with Mustang’s in one hand, while his other hand slid down her side.

He’d never been more grateful that they both had rather low body temperatures, and thus liked to sleep in little more than underwear when it was warm. He brushed the edges of Riza’s cotton pants and then moved back up to cup her bare breast.

Riza’s breath hitched by his ear.

“How about when you abandoned your post and nearly got killed by Envy?” Mustang suggested. He pinched Riza’s nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

“I’m- pretty sure being Wrath’s personal secretary and- and hostage cancels that one out,” Riza replied. Her grip on Mustang’s hand tightened, and God, he knew she was flushed, and he longed to see it.

To see her pink cheeks, the way her ears turned red when she got flustered, how her eyes glazed over whenever she got turned on. The way her nose scrunched up and her dimples appeared when she tried not to make any noise.

There was much more he wanted to see, but the majority were Riza and her reactions to anything and everything.

Mustang blinked slowly and shifted up, pressing his lips to Riza’s. “I got you out of that position too,” he murmured between passes of their lips. He nipped her lower lip lightly.

“Did not.” Riza sat in Mustang’s lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Her ass pressed firmly against his hardening cock.

“Did too.” Mustang brushed his thumb over her nipple, and Riza arched her back.

“Damn it, did not. I got myself out of it.” She kissed him again, slipping her tongue into Mustang’s mouth.

Mustang leaned into the kiss and squeezed Riza’s breast before letting his hand slip down to her pants again. “Fine, we’ll call that one even,” he sighed. “We both helped.”

Riza nodded and hitched her hips up a touch. “Agreed.” Her ass rolled against Mustang’s cock again and she leaned in to bite his neck.

It was softer than usual. Not just the bites - everything.

They had both been through so much. The rush of power from Ishval, despite the atrocities they’d caused. Killing a false god, dismantling the government. Taking over Central without killing a single person, even though they easily could have, purely because _they decided not to_.

They had plenty of trauma to work through, and much of it occurred under the dark blanket of nightfall in their room, with pain and pleasure mixing for them both. Mustang had a particular fondness of giving pain and Riza of receiving it, while Riza enjoyed tying up more than being tied up, but they switched roles often. It was an odd form of survivor’s guilt; one Mustang hadn’t seen in soldiers coming back before. Then again, they worked through their symptoms behind closed doors, so he couldn’t quite assume no one else was doing the same.

That morning though, was soft. Mustang’s fingers were light caresses on Riza’s hips, and her bites were more like nips to make him shiver. Neither had the need to hurt or be hurt that day, the warm sun and sleepiness pushing down their sadistic or masochistic tendencies.

Mustang slipped a finger into Riza and curled it. She was already soaking, and it was easy to add a second. Riza moaned at that, hips twitching.

“I knew something had happened when Pride attacked you.”

Riza moaned again and shook her head. “Didn’t- didn’t do anything though.”

“Because you didn’t tell me.” Mustang added a third finger and spread them.

“Doesn’t count for either of us so.” Riza tapped Mustang’s arm. “Fuck, pull out.”

Mustang obliged and Riza shifted off his lap. From the tell-tale creak of the one jammed drawer on her side of the bed, she was grabbing a condom.

Mustang sat up a bit, leaning on his arm. “What about that time after Ishval that I helped you get out of the hostage situation at the bank?”

“Please.” Riza’s voice was muffled, her words followed by a crinkling tear of a wrapper opening. “I had that perfectly under control until you came in and made a mess of it.”

“You sure about that?” Mustang looked in her general direction and grinned. “I seem to recall the report saying that you couldn’t have done it without me.”

“Oh yeah?” Riza climbed into his lap again, one arm wrapping around Mustang’s shoulders. “Would this be the report that you wrote out to document the incident?”

“It may have been.” Mustang tilted his head. “But I don’t recall the semantics of who exactly wrote that report.”

“I highly doubt that.” Riza’s voice held the same tone it always did when she rolled her eyes - the slight downturn at the end of the sentence. She wrapped her fingers around Mustang’s dick, and he hissed, arching into her touch. “How about when I covered for you digging up an entire warehouse foundation and wasting a day and a half of a search mission budget because you were convinced of a warehouse thirteen murderer?”

“We saw bones,” Mustang protested. Riza moved her hand in firm but slow strokes. “It was a- a logical theory, given Scar at the time.”

“A theory entirely broken by Black Hayate burying bones in an empty plot near my apartment.” Riza dragged her thumb over the head of Mustang’s cock.

“Why was she even burying them?” Mustang nipped Riza’s shoulder. “You should have kept that dog on a tighter leash back then.”

“She was perfectly fine.” Riza pulled her hand back. “And that counts as one for me.”

Mustang groaned as Riza rolled the condom down over his dick and shifted her weight. “Oh, fuck. Hang on…”

He leaned his head back, trying to think, but it was difficult when Riza disregarded his rather simple request and sank down on his cock. 

Riza moaned, dropping her head onto Mustang’s shoulder. “You were saying?”

“Damn it…” Mustang gripped Riza’s hips and hitched his hips up into her. She clenched around him. “I was going to suggest we flip over, so you’re not doing all the work.”

He got a little antsy when he couldn’t put in at _least_ the same amount of effort as his partner.

“Mm.” Riza hummed in his ear. “I like this position.” She circled her hips slowly, rising on her knees and lowering herself again to get used to the sensation.

“Okay, but I went blind for you.”

Riza swatted Mustang’s shoulder. “Damn it, no.”

She was moving faster now, using Mustang’s shoulders and chest for leverage as she rode him. She was tight around his cock and each time she dropped down, he hitched his hips up.

“You were forced to do human transmutation. You didn’t do it for me. That doesn’t count.”

Mustang gripped her hips a touch harder, adding a touch of support as she moved faster. She was more bouncing now, dropped back on Mustang’s thighs and her calves as she lowered, and using them and her core muscles to push up. “I mean it did save you though.”

“Not- No, not part of it.” Riza’s voice was breathy now, and Mustang’s thoughts were growing as hazy as hers sounded. “You said- fuck, you said you wouldn’t because I- because I would have shot you-” She whined, dropping her head onto Mustang’s shoulder. “Oh, fuck that feels good.”

Mustang slipped a hand between them and brushed his fingers over Riza’s clit. “Because you would have shot me.”

“Damn straight.” Riza’s ass slapped against Mustang’s thighs as she dropped down again. “Oh, fuck, leg cramp!”

She stilled and Mustang used the chance to flip them over, pressing Riza down into the mattress. “Better?” He asked.

“Much.” Riza pulled him closer as Mustang slipped into her once again.

He fumbled above her for a moment and grabbed a pillow. When he tapped her hips, she lifted them, and he slid the pillow beneath her lower back. “This should help a bit.”

Once the pillow was secure, he thrust into her and Riza wrapped her legs around his waist. “Fuck!”

Mustang nipped the side of Riza’s neck. He could go back to their playful argument afterwards. For now, he just wanted to make Riza feel as good as possible.

Riza groaned. “Please, Roy, I’m- fuck, I-” Her head fell back against the mattress with a dull thump.

Mustang sped up his thrusts and Riza whined into the sheets. “Are you close?”

“Yes,” she groaned. “Fuck, please, touch me!”

Normally, Mustang would use this chance to tease Riza, but now, he slipped a hand between them and brushed his fingers against her clit again. He circled them over it and Riza moaned louder, hips bucking.

“Oh shit, I’m- I’m going to cum-”

“Then do it,” Mustang urged. “Cum for me, Riza.”

Riza’s legs tightened around his waist and a few moments later, her muscles seized up. She shouted Mustang’s name up to the ceiling, shaking.

Mustang kept his speed up, continuing to rub Riza’s clit until she was cringing back, over-sensitive from her orgasm. Mustang propped himself up on the mattress above her, one hand either side of her head.

“Do you need me to stop?”

Riza reached up and carded her fingers through Mustang’s hair, pulling him down for another kiss. “Fuck me,” she murmured against his lips.

Mustang obliged eagerly, body aching to move. He started thrusting into her again, more haphazard, clutching the sheets between his fingers.

Riza squeezed his hips with her legs. “Aw, look, you’re so close… And so soon after I’ve cum too.”

“You’re so condescending,” Mustang snorted, but with his voice as breathy as it was, it sounded more like a gasp.

Riza hummed, a smile in her tone. “Yes, but you love it.” She traced her thumb over Mustang’s lip and pulled him into another kiss.

Mustang moaned into Riza’s mouth as her tongue slipped between his lips, and his thrusts faltered. His eyes snapped shut and his body went rigid as he came.

They were silent for a minute, holding one another and kissing with gentle brushes of their lips. When his arms started shaking, Mustang eased out of Riza and rolled onto his back. He wrapped a hand around his dick, slowly pulling off the condom.

Riza draped an arm above her head, her hand resting right next to Mustang’s ear, and played with the overlong strands of hair along the sides of his face. “You need to get a haircut soon.”

“I’ll book an appointment,” Mustang assured her. He sat up to tie the condom off, dropped it into the bin, and lay back down.

Riza shifted onto her side, resting her head on Mustang’s chest. Her hair tickled his skin once again, both coated with a thin layer of sweat.

Mustang traced his fingers up and down Riza’s back, fingertips light on each scar. “I did go blind for you though.”

“Okay, no. You were forced to use human transmutation. You did not choose to go blind for me.” Riza flicked his forehead.

“Hey!” Mustang rubbed the spot and frowned at Riza, but either she didn’t notice or didn’t particularly care about his pout. “Come on, I was a key part in that battle, even blind.”

“I helped you pinpoint everything,” Riza pointed out.

“And I hit every target!” Mustang nuzzled into her neck. “Besides, I did go blind for you.”

“Bullshit. If you did it by choice, I would have shot you.” Riza poked his forehead this time. Maybe she had noticed his pout.

“But are you dead though?”

“No, but you didn’t choose it!” Riza insisted. “It doesn’t count!”

“But are you dead?”

“Does. Not. Count.”

Mustang sighed and nudged her. “Fine, lift up. I guess I’ll somehow find a way to stumble to the kitchen… hopefully turn on the right appliance. Pour the coffee without burning myself.” He slowly sat up, but it wasn’t until he was standing, slouched over, dragging his feet on the floor, that Riza groaned.

“Fine! God, I’ll make breakfast!”

Mustang brightened up, shoulders relaxing again. “And coffee?”

“You can make the coffee. I’ll make sure you don’t die doing a mundane task. At least before you become Fuhrer.” Riza stood up, floorboards creaking beneath her feet. She threw a dressing gown at Mustang and it landed on his head. “Get dressed - we don’t need to flash the neighbours.”

Mustang grabbed the dressing gown and fumbled his way into it. As he finished, Riza took his arm.

“Come on.”

Normally Mustang would object to Riza helping him navigate the house, insisting that it impaired him further because it didn’t help him get used to navigating by himself. Today, he wasn’t in the mood to stub his toe into the wall. Plus, his cane was folded up in the kitchen, so he couldn’t just grab it.

So, he allowed Riza to lead him to the kitchen without complaint. While she started on a fry-up, Mustang - miraculously - managed to make coffee without burning himself or the house down.

He shuffled over to Riza, her mug in hand, and kissed her shoulder as he set her coffee down. Riza relaxed into his arms as she cooked, and when their breakfast was ready, she carried it over to the table.

They ate breakfast with gentle exchanges at their small table that morning, and then retreated to the living room to enjoy their day off doing precisely nothing at all.


End file.
